Page 37 of The Risk Taker

I stay there for a second longer than I should, pretending I am adjusting my blocker, and then force myself upright.

Across the ice, Austin slings an arm around Logan’s neck, dragging him into a loose headlock. Logan shoves him away, still grinning as they step off the ice.

I let all the other guys leave before I do, needing a minute to recoup and let the pain settle. I shift my weight onto my good leg and push off the crease.

I glance to my side, seeing Ryan skate straight over to me. “You good?” he asks, giving my elbow a nudge. “You looked a little off on that last drill.”

“I’m fine.” I unclip my mask, flex my jaw, try not to fucking limp. “Just tired and need a shower.”

Luckily, he buys my bullshit and wanders off toward my sister. I glance away before they start making out, because I’ve seen that horror show enough times to last a lifetime. I’ve already got shooting pains running up my thigh. Don’t need the urge to puke on top of it.

I make my way toward the tunnel, my leg throbbing with every step. The guys drift ahead and Logan is in the middle of them, tugging at the straps of his gloves as he walks.

By the time we step into the locker room, he’s already unbuckled his helmet and shakes out his sweaty hair. He rips off his gloves next, flexing his fingers before hooking his thumbs under the hem of his jersey.

He pulls it up over his pads. The fabric bunches on the shoulder pads, catching for half a second before sliding free. The base layer underneath is plastered to him, sweat dripping down the line of his stomach, pooling into the faint trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his gear. He drags a hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling, and the stretch of muscle across his torso does something to my already fried brain.

Logan’s always half-naked. It’s like he’s allergic to clothing. I tell myself that’s the only reason my eyes ever follow him. Justirritation at how the guy seems physically incapable of keeping a shirt on.

I don’t realize I’m still looking until I glance up and notice the corner of his mouth lifting into a slow, smug smirk as he catches me blatantly staring.

“Like what you see, Hayes?”

I force my gaze away, ignoring the heat crawling up my neck, and push past him, dropping onto the bench in front of my cubby. My thigh screams the second I crouch, but I keep my face neutral as my gloves hit the floor.

It takes fucking forever to get through removing my gear without grimacing. By the time I’m down to just my compression shorts, most of the room has emptied out.

I sit there for a second, catching my breath, then peel those off too. They hit the laundry bin with a wet slap. I’m down to nothing but the thin jock shorts underneath, and even that digs into the sore spot high in my thigh.

I sit back, and let out a slow breath, but when I look up, Logan’s standing in front of me.

His brows dip. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Fucking hell,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. “Yes. I’m fine.”

I can tell he doesn’t buy it; he tilts his head as his eyes narrow. “You don’t look fine.”

“Thanks for the diagnosis,” I mutter, shooting him a dry look.

He keeps watching me as I peel off the last of my clothing, and it’s starting to piss me off. I just want to get to the showers before he asks again. So I push to my feet. Too fast.

Pain bolts up my thigh, stealing the breath right out of me. My jaw snaps tight. I pause for half a second, forcing my face neutral even though every nerve is screaming.

Logan’s brows draw in, just slightly, and I know he noticed it.

Jesus.

This is bad.

I grab my towel from the hook above my stall. My hands shake a little, so I fist the terry cloth tighter and keep my eyes away from him.

He’s still standing there, still watching me so I brush past him before he can open his mouth.

The showers are all empty, so I pick the closest stall, pull off my shorts, and take a step inside, turning on the water. A long breath leaves my lips as the heat sinks into my skin until my shoulders loosen. My leg doesn’t, though.

I brace both hands on the wall, slowly stretch my leg behind me, and immediately regret it.Goddamn it.

“Fuck.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to breathe through it.